


chew you up, spit you out

by orphan_account



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: And yeah. Snakes. That., M/M, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1525472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know how he got here, pinned down and blinfolded by a monster with his best friend's face, and he certainly doesn't know how he's going to get out, not when the snake's venom is sinking fast through his clouded brain. What he does know is this: if the monster kills him, he'll forgive it anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chew you up, spit you out

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for dubcon, psychological torture, semi-graphic depictions of suicide and mild(ish) gore. also, snake fucking. yeah. that too.

_He can’t move._

He doesn’t try to. He can’t see shit, and there’s something heavy bound tight round his arms. Rope?

His very first thought is: ‘ _Finally_.  _I’m going to die.’_

There’s a noise somewhere behind him, and his stomach jolts. He resents it- how disgusting, to feel fear when he should welcome death, how repulsive, to blink as if it might help him see. His body twitches, without his consent.

_Where is he, anyway?_

The noise sounds again, slightly louder, an odd rustling. It reminds him vaguely of an animal moving about in the undergrowth, or Tono curling up on her little straw bed. Maybe it  _is_  Tono; maybe he slept funny, maybe this is sleep paralysis and soon he’ll kick out and reach up towards the same grey ceiling with bags beneath his eyes, maybe he’s just-

One of the ropes  _moves_.

His body freezes up again as it slowly dawns on him that these-  _things_ \- are far, far too thick to be rope, too solid and too smooth. He swallows heavily, and behind him, the darkness chuckles.

"How  _rude_ , Kisaragi. You should have told me you were awake.”

The rustling moves, and now it’s by his head. He feels like he’s being circled. Ridiculous, when if he’s right, his predator’s already caught him. He tries to speak, and his voice comes out hoarse.

"…Konoha."

'Konoha' doesn't bother answering, laughing very quietly. Shintaro's heart thuds painfully. Of course that's not Konoha. Konoha… Konoha wouldn't… his mind is filled, suddenly, with a sharp flash of an image, something buried deep that he forgets as soon as it's gone. It leaves mist, smoke trails. He can't think straight.

_‘Kuroha,’ comes a hysterical thought, ‘I should call him Kuroha. I wonder what he’d make of it.’_

"I’m  _so_ glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.” Shintaro’s breath catches in his throat as one of the ‘ropes’ begins to move again, uncurling and sliding slowly, slowly up his body to coil around his neck. He thinks he now has a fairly good idea of what these things are, which makes _Kuroha’_ s next words all the more terrifying: “We were getting hungry…”

He flinches a split second before the snake strikes. Teeth sink into his jaw like needle-points and his entire body jolts, mouth opening in a pained cry. It proves to be a mistake- something huge and scaly forces its way into his mouth and his voice is immediately silenced, shattering any hopes he may have had of rescue.

‘ _Hopes of rescue? Don’t make me laugh.’_

Those words chill him more than anything, resounding through his skull as if grown there, yet foreign somehow still. It’s not his voice, but… the words are his, aren’t they? That voice, though edged with an unfamiliar hiss, is one he’s known for years, one he grew up beside and played with. Those are his thoughts.

_It’s reading his thoughts._

Beneath the blindfold, his eyes open again, and he starts to struggle. It’s becoming difficult to breathe, difficult to focus, and something about the snake’s tongue, tasting the roof of his mouth, is poison on its own. It’s dangerous, so dangerous, and with a chill he realises that- that-

_He’s lying on his bed. It dawns on him slowly, and as it does he begins to feel like he’s drifting. He shouldn’t be able to see, but suddenly, he’s looking up at the ceiling, just as he predicted. When did it get to such an awful hour of the morning? Morning light is beginning to creep in through his window, mingling with the flickering blue of his computer screen, washing over the- red?- of his sheets…_

_Ah, that’s right. It’s like that, huh._

_His hands are shaking slightly as he stares at the metal between his fingers. He starts to laugh and behind his eyelids, he sees paper cranes, even as blood begins to well up in his throat and bubble over the edge of his skin and he can taste it in his mouth it’s choking him he can’t scream he can’t scream it’s so- wonderful-_

His hands fly to his neck and the snake there thuds off him with a hiss, leaving him panting. His lips are stretched and sore and he thinks he feels bite marks on his tongue. 

“What the  _fuck_ was that-“

Apparently, Kuroha doesn’t want to answer, because the snake is soon replaced by something much softer. The kiss is far from gentle. Their lips lock like eagle talons, and Shintaro finds himself fighting back hungrily, biting and sucking and rolling the tender flesh of his best friend’s lips between his teeth. The taste of blood, he realises, wasn’t just part of a vision; there’s a metallic tang in his throat and Kuroha laps up every bit of it. He barely even cares as the snake from before slides down his body to wind round his leg.

He does care when Kuroha pulls away, letting out an embarrassing whine. Kuroha ignores it.

“Hmm, your arms got free somewhere. That’s no good…”

Something lands on his chest and begins to writhe. It’s followed by two more resolute thuds, and the weight on his ribs increases to almost painful levels.

“That should do for now. Perhaps later we can invent a more  _creative_ scenario.” There’s another dark chuckle, and Kuroha grabs his arms and pulls them above his head as the new snakes suddenly dart in different directions- one to his arms, locking them in place, and one to his other leg. The third snake loops round his waist. It’s the heaviest, and it holds him down better than even metal could.

“…Don’t tell me you want what I think you do,” he says with a groan. He can just  _tell_ that Kuroha is beaming.

“What I want, you pathetic excuse for a mortal, is to know you inside out- without the introductions, this time. I’m afraid this just so happens to be your _particular_  burden, but rest assured, it’s nothing personal…”

Shintaro frowns at that, completely taken aback, because really, what does ‘this time’ mean? Any questions he may have had are silenced, however, as Kuroha starts to unbutton his trousers. He hasn’t really been paying attention to it, but with some horror he realises that he’s already a little hard. God, of all things, did he  _have_ to have a thing for being  _threatened_?

It’s a snake that wraps around him, of course.

It’s… well, it’s weird. Rougher than human skin, and it moves in an entirely different way to his hand, its entire body rippling with each stroke. Without thinking, he lets out a loud, ridiculous moan, and Kuroha seems to find this entertaining, giggling and drumming his fingers over Shintaro’s hips.

“My, you really do live up to your disgusting reputation, don’t you? Bestiality is a new low for even you.”

He can’t help it, he really can’t. Almost as soon as the word ‘disgusting’ leaves Kuroha’s lips he begins to squirm; unable to thrust upwards, with the snake draped over his middle, but panting heavily as he moves from side to side. His legs are everywhere, jerking and twitching. Kuroha tightens the snakes round his ankles and somehow pulls them up, forcing him still.

“Now, now. Don’t get ahead of yourself, human.” Suddenly, his mouth is full of cold scales again. His mind is clouding over more by the second, and he wonders if it’s from tiredness, pleasure, fear, or venom. Are these snakes even poisonous? He doesn’t know. If he could see them then maybe, maybe he’d…

_He’s at home, he hasn’t gone anywhere, but the light is different, faded like a photograph, and beside him sits a small girl. Her hair isn’t quite so yellow yet, her eyes not quite so bright- in fact, they’re barely even lit at all, light surfacing in them only when she blinks. Her eyelids are swollen. He flips through pages of emotion in his head, trying to find a match, and realises, dimly, that she’s been crying._

_“Papa…”_

_He tries to squeeze her hand but finds he can’t make his body move. There’s something keeping him locked in place. He can’t even blink as he watches her, and before his eyes she slowly begins to melt, eyes rolling out of their sockets and dripping off her face, roasted marshmallow, overheating and turning red. He doesn’t understand how that’s possible. How hot would the flames need to be? How burnt the stick?_

_It’s only when her hand starts disintegrating that he finally finds it in himself to move, but by then it’s too late- of course- she’s already let go and her arms are crumbling-_

He makes a muffled sound around the snake as it probes his tonsils with its tongue, and tears are pricking his eyes, making the cloth damp. It stings to blink. Kuroha croons mockingly and raises a hand to thumb his cheek.

“Dear, dear. Having bad dreams again, are we?”

He only wants to know how. The why doesn’t matter. He deserves whatever he gets, whatever hardship comes his way, because it’s all true and he knows it. He knows. What he can’t deal with is not  _understanding._ How has Konoha- sweet, blank Konoha, with his bizarre strength and stranger mannerisms- turned into this? How come the voice taunting him so silkily sounds so familiar, and how, how does that make it all the worse, all the better? Most importantly- how the  _hell_ did he get these snakes in here, and why can they apparently give him  _nightmares_?

Kuroha bends down to kiss his stomach, and the snake in his mouth pushes further back, into his throat.

_He’s sitting at his desk, back at school, and there’s a deep rumbling beneath his feet. Perhaps a train approaching? He doesn’t know. He feels lazy today, head resting on the desk, staring at the clouds outside. There’s not much to do- everyone’s gone home by now, leaving him alone with the vase of flowers the next desk over. Why are those there? He can’t quite remember, but somehow, looking at them makes him feel warm. He thinks he could fall asleep here._

_But no, he realises as the rumbling gets louder, it’s a much richer vibration, humming through the air and the wood of his desk, creating ripples in the heat. Pressure’s building in his head and he can see something out the window, something falling, some_ one _\- and he bolts upright and knocks over his chair and he’s screaming and screaming because why, why, and his clothes are covered in blood and sweat and vomit and his neck burns again but still he can’t shed a tear-_

It’s pain that brings him back this time, and God, is it painful. It takes him a moment to register what’s happening but when he does he almost laughs.

“What, did my tears make you that impatient? You call me disgusting…”

True, the hiccup in his voice ruins the effect slightly, but judging by the force with which Kuroha slams into him, he thinks his tone carried just fine.

_It’s different this time. He’s there and not there, rocking back and forth on his duvet while enveloped in cold, white space. It takes a few moments for him to understand why the place is so familiar._

_He’s surrounded by fog, and he’s utterly alone._

_Kuroha is hissing in his ear, but it’s far away, dreamlike compared to the damp, solid coolness of the mist inside his brain. He looks down at himself. He’s naked like he’s never been before, skin scraped clean of all its imperfections, every spot and scar and blemish. It’s repulsive. Like a baby’s._

_He starts to walk._

_For a long while- he doesn’t know how long, but it’s long enough for his body to adjust to the pain, long enough for his real-world self to start whining with pleasure- he simply wanders, the mist parting around him and shrouding him entirely. It’s very comforting, in a claustrophobic sort of way. Like he could slip away into it and never be found again._

_Eventually, though, he stops. There’s something else here with him._

_Lying on the ground a few feet away is a huddled figure. At first he almost thinks it’s just a pile of clothes, but the steady, echoing sobs that reach him aren’t his own. He’s curious, so he closes the distance and crouches beside it. The figure’s outline is not unlike his own._

_“Did you fall?”_

_There’s no reply, but the sobbing seems to grow louder, which startles him. What a crybaby! Really, he’s only trying to help. He coughs a little, just as real-Shintaro gasps loudly, an especially deep thrust having made his hips shake._

_“U-uh. Look, I don’t know what’s wrong, but this is my brain. You can’t sit here and cry all day long.”_

_The figure’s shoulders relax slightly, he thinks. The sobbing lessens, at least._

_“You’re not… him, are you?” Shintaro asks, and the mist around them shudders. All of a sudden, he feels watched._

_“I’m not… him.”_

_The figure has an awfully trembly voice. It sounds unused, flat. Like something locked up to rot. For the first time since he woke up, Shintaro feels real fear. He knows this. He knows this person._

_Shintaro looks up at himself, and whispers:_

_“I’m something far worse.”_

The mist explodes around him, and it barely even registers that most of the snakes have gone as he yells with all his might. Kuroha is laughing delightedly above him and the feeling he felt in the fog returns; he was right, he’d been watching, and he knows everything because he’s been right there, he knows the reason Shintaro’s coming into a snake’s mouth, spread open and pinned down by a man he should despise, knows that the fear he feels when he looks in the mirror and the loathing that strikes him when he’s caught in a photograph will always hurt him most, that pain caused by anyone, anything else is bliss by comparison. He knows that Shintaro loves him for this and he knows that, now, he’s remembering it all- the blood of his friends around him and the screams, so, so loud in his ears.

Kuroha kisses his cheeks, licking off tears, and Shintaro forgives him everything.

There’s someone else here to blame, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> end kuroshin cult 2k14


End file.
